


Go On, Say It

by Detroitbydark



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, Gen, Implied Diego Hargreeves/Vanya hargreeves, hybrid show/comic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 21:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17875313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detroitbydark/pseuds/Detroitbydark
Summary: Five times Diego says something to Vanya he doesn’t mean and the One time he does





	Go On, Say It

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first 5 times fic so be gentle. I’m really intrigued by the interactions between Diego and Vanya as he has the most visceral reactions to her (almost as if he felt betrayed) and I wanted to explore it. This is definitely a combination of show/comic and mentions of the Prime 8’s (Vanya and Diego’s) punk band from the comics) features. I hope y’all enjoy!
> 
> Also, my total disregard for editing and proper use of the coma is in full display and I am completely unrepentant.

_1._

_“What’s she doing here? You don’t belong here. Not after what you did.”_

 

He’s spent so long being pissed off, angry at his sister for leaving, raging mad about that _fucking_ book, that the very sight of her in the halls of the Academy brings sharp words to the tip of his tongue. Diego wants to slash her open with those words like he would a criminal with one of his blades. He wants her to hurt as much as he has. He needs her to know the damage she’s done.

 But Vanya doesn’t look like he remembers her. There’s no rebellion, no spark in her eyes. She’s a Vanya-shaped shell, meek and mild. He wants to show her his wounds, lay them bloody and bare for her, spread out like a list of sins she’s committed against him but he can’t because this isn’t the time and she’s not _his_ Vanya, the one that committed those crimes.

 But he wants to.

 

_2._

_“You never know when to stop, do you?”_

_“You got enough material for your sequel yet?”_

_“He was my father too.”_

 

She’d been so close when Five had come back through whatever hellish wormhole he’d opened up (Diego still doesn't understand no matter how the pretentious little bastard explained).

 He’d stopped in front of her out of habit. His muscles remembered that she needed protecting she was his sister and she was defenseless and, damn it, it was his job to do that one thing.

 He could feel her body behind him, imagined the familiar heat that radiates off it, cursed himself at remembering how her shampoo used to smell.

 He disgusted himself. He’d vowed to forget that weakness (forget _Vanya_ ) but here it ( _she)_ was again.

 He’d carried that resentment with him, his own personal cross. He’d listened to Pogo. He simmered and stewed til he couldn’t hold it in. He said what he needed to about the Old Man. The Monocule. The rat bastard he’d called Dad.

 Luther, the Chosen One, of course wasn’t having it. Like everything between his brother and him, it got out of hand. Than there was Vanya’s voice. The dagger leaving his hand. Shame.

 He’d let Dad down again.

 Vanya made it worse and he knew there was more to her words than that moment. He flashed back to the night of their show. The one he never showed up for. The one where Vanya waited with such certainty that he’d be there.

 The mission came first. Trying to get in Dad’s good graces came first. Vanya always came last.

 She never got her ‘Sorry’

 

_3._

_“She shouldn’t get a vote”_

_“I was going to say I agree with you”_

_“Ok, she should get a vote”_

 

He brushes her off ignoring her exasperated look. Diego the bastard, refuses to ask her “Why”. He pictures Mom smiling at the pair of them as they practice, Vanya with her guitar and him with his bass.

 He wants to know if he’s been forgiven.

 

4.

_“What are you still doing here?”_

_“I’m just trying to help.”_

_“No, you could have been killed or gotten any of us killed. She is a liability.”_

 

‘If something happened to you I don’t know if I could handle it’ he thinks at her retreating form. Hate me. Get as far away from me and this family as you can. You deserve better.

 

_5._

_“Even if you’re right, she needs our help  and we can’t do that if she’s locked in a cage.”_

 

She’s screaming and he can’t even hear her. She’s begging and looking at him with panicked eyes. He wants to throw that door open and wrap her in his arms and tell her everything is going to be ok.

 He should stand firm with Luther, fight harder for her. Since when do they turn their backs on family (he doesn’t answer that question)?

 He should demand that door is opened but he won’t because Luther is supposed to be the leader, it’s been pounded in his head for decades. He feels like he’s right but maybe Luther knows best. With a last look he falls back. Her eyes are still pleading with him as he turns his back on her.

 His knuckles bleed. Concrete walls are not meant to be punching bags.

 

+1.

They’re in a field and Five is popping in and out, muttering in between about time and space. Klaus is spread out like a starfish in the green grass, his hands skimming along the blades. He’s Talking to Ben. Dead Ben who is not so dead.

 Diego shakes his head. Luther is following Allison, a lovesick puppy, like always.

 Vanya.

 Vanya is curled in her side, in the same position Luther unceremoniously deposited her before going to Allison. The ‘older’ of his two sisters is grief stricken. The family had nothing left to lose with the time jump, except Allison. Her daughter, Claire.

 Vanya’s face twitches in her sleep (her coma?) and Diego looks to each of his siblings for direction but no one is paying attention. He sees the dried stream of blood flaking around her right ear.

 They nearly died. She nearly killed them. Somehow he can’t be angry. Her forehead creases and he tentatively reaches out and brushes a stray piece of hair away, tucking it behind her ear.

 Laying down, he rolls on his side toward her, remembers nights laying in each other’s beds whispering secrets in the same position, remembers what happiness felt like.

 

“I want to ha...hate you.” He says quietly. Vanya makes no sign she’s heard him.

 

“I can’t hate you though because I miss you and I l..., I lo...I love,” he finally forces the word out, picturing it (and her smiling with a guitar slung around her shoulders and ripped jeans) in his head, “I love you.”

  



End file.
